


We/Us

by cuntoid



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Monsterfucking, Multi, Other, Sensory Overload, Shapeshifting, a test ride if you will, drool, i'm fresh outta tags, just read the fucking porn, mindreading, self indulgent bullshit, soooo much tongue ugh The Good Stuff, sort of...??, tongue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 00:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuntoid/pseuds/cuntoid
Summary: So Now You Have A Symbiote: How To Resume Your Natural Urges





	We/Us

**Author's Note:**

> this is a super quick desperate little thing i wrote up because i, like any self-respecting pervert, want to fuck the slimy alien. and so do you, i guess! so, enjoy. or don't. this was actually really selfish

 

_**We bleed, little human.**_  
  
“Yeah… I know.”  
  
_**We are no longer fertile, but we hunger like we are.**_  
  
“We _hunger?_ Jesus, Venom, just… I mean, you’re _always_ hungry, so. Stop.”  
  
Doing something as mundane as folding your laundry becomes a challenge, concentration wavering between Venom slithering restlessly under your skin and the unavoidable effect of its voice, felt vibrating inside each cell tumbling through your blood at breakneck speed. Your pulse pounds in your temples and between your legs as you funnel your mental energy toward the clothes piled up next to you. Grab, shake out, fold. Smooth over. Repeat. Grab, shake, fold. _Grab, shake, fold._  
  
_**You can’t even concentrate on your menial tasks—we need tension relief.**_  
  
“ _Wow_. I guess symbiotes aren’t capable of subtlety… do you even experience pleasure?”  
  
_**No—but**_ **we** _ **do... t** **ogether**_. A pleasant tingle chases up your spine like a clawed finger, and there’s no reason to believe it isn’t. It's strange to have a constant guest, feeling it inside of you at all times, like smoke, like shimmering ripples of heat in the summertime. Hearing it acknowledge and discuss your apparent neediness is almost humiliating. It’s not in your nature to wait, but adjusting to symbiotic life has had your thoughts (and hands) preoccupied. Now, it races violently to the forefront, neglected. Desperate. _Warm._ Everything feels warmer these days. _**We need it.**_  
  
There’s an edge to its voice that feels unfamiliar. It skirts the line of vulnerability, impatience bubbling to the surface and showing its hand. That giddy spark low in your belly grows, edged by a steady throb, and Venom’s growl rumbles in your chest.  
  
Venom ghosts over your shoulder and you recoil from that insectoid face, shifting as though it can't decide on a form to settle on. Two milky eyes and a set of jaws large enough to swallow you whole stare back at you. Somewhere in another room, there’s the distinct ticking of a clock. Outside, kids play in their driveways and their yippy little dogs bark, birds chatter in the backyard and, maybe in one of those houses, a human couple has sex. Somewhere, perhaps two warm, affectionate people giggle in a dimmed room and kiss and roll their hips in tandem like a wave, like _normal, human_  people.  
  
In the privacy of your home, your mouth goes dry to lend that moisture to your hairline, prickling with sweat as you imagine Venom’s long, long tongue against your skin. You’re not much for softness, for love-making. Not much for the word _normal_ , either. You run a fingertip down the length of a razored tooth and it’s like there isn’t a bottom to your need. It consumes you and turns you inside out like a cosmic event, imploding you, sucking the air out of the fucking room and collapsing the world moving past the two of you in the distance.  
  
_**This.**_ Venom purrs and rolls your hips for you, the not-so-phantom sensation of fingers clutching and moving them to the invisible rhythm of your pulse. Its teeth part to make way for its tongue, lolling down, down, _down_ until it’s squirming in your lap. The sheer heat of it should hurt you, should burn your jeans up into curls of smoke and singe your flesh, but everything is different now. That thick, toxic-looking drool seeps through your clothing. The warmth spreads inside of you like a stiff drink, and Venom’s tongue wriggles against the seam of your jeans. Two pale eyes widen as electricity lights you from within, jagged little thrills helping to twist a coil of pressure at your core until you feel you may burst. It’s a wonder that Venom is capable of such a pathetic whine of a moan, keening in your ear, but it’s _you_. It’s you that’s panting and leaning back on your hands to grant the creature more access. Avoiding its gaze changes nothing. Every tingle across every inch of your body is stripped bare for its perusal and entertainment. There is no privacy anymore, no _you_. Just _us._  
  
_**Would you like me to tell you what I want to do to us?**_  
  
“ _Yes._ ” It exits your lips in the barest whisper, a seed of dandelion fluff lost in the fog. Underneath that thread of modesty lies the feverish truth, boiling your blood and turning your cheeks pink in a blush that blooms all the way down your chest. Venom sniffs you there, takes your shirt in its teeth and _rips_. Skin bared to its alien tongue, Venom drags it up from the dip of your ribcage to your throat. There are tendrils of its flesh creeping over your parted thighs, snaking to pull at the zipper and button before they, too, become too impatient and liberate you from having to wear your jeans ever again. Dark tatters of fabric fall like confetti and laughter bubbles up as natural as ever, spurred along by the tickle of him licking at your earlobe. “Those were expensive! Be _nice._ ”  
  
_**You don’t want me to be nice. I won’t be.**_ Venom’s tongue wriggles between your thighs to part the soft, swollen lips of your cunt, tender even as he promises not to be. The ridges and bumps on his tongue find their purpose against your clit, testing the strength of your resistance, and you _melt._ It’s easy to slip back and give up control. It feels like sinking into bathwater, warm and harmless, and _yet_ … somewhere past the veil of comfort, Venom’s teeth scrape over your shoulder. Claws trace the soft length of your thighs as its tongue undulates against you, and once you’re limp in the safety of its grasp, it decides that maybe your comfort isn’t important. Laughter rumbles through every bone and sinew, every extra tendril growing out of your spine like ichor. _**You want me to slip my tongue into the tight, slick heat of your cunt. You want to be fucked, and tasted, consumed in a way I'd like the pleasure of doing--if you feel deserving. Beg for it.**_  
  
“ _What?_ N-… _no_ , Venom, c’mon…”  
  
Wriggling your hips against that building tension gets you nowhere. It evades you, pulling its tongue just enough until only soft, teasing laps remain, so light that you sob in protest. The teeth aren’t so shy—they’re everywhere, chittering into existence just to raze the skin off your shoulder. The sounds flowing past your lips want to be words, instead settling for half-formed pleas and whines that stretch on into oblivion.   
  
_**We can do better than that.**_  
  
Many mouths seal over your arms, your throat, your legs, _clamping shut_ , and it _fills_ you.  
  
Fat beads of blood roll down in the wake of its biting, and now _this_ —this hot, _aching_ stretch, threatening to unravel you down to the splitting of your atoms so that Venom can peruse even those secret parts of you, parts it hungers to know about. The symbiote is curious. It’s always slinking through your veins reading the slightest change in bodily function until it learns what it wants to know. Your strengths, your weaknesses… where you stroke yourself. What you watch, what you listen to, what you crave when you’re deep in the recesses of your fantasies with your body on fire.  
  
“ _Venom!_ Please! Please oh _please_ —”  
  
_**Doesn’t it feel so good to be taken care of? Look what we do**_ **together.**  
  
You may never get used to your limbs moving of their own accord—of _its_ accord, trailing down your belly and underneath the dripping expanse of tongue so you can feel how slippery you are. Your fingers come back slicked, and Venom helps you remedy this by pushing them between your lips. The sounds coming up your throat muffle against your own digits, a moan so utterly wanton that it makes you shiver with shame. Again, the beast laughs inside of you, in your mind all the way to the nerves in your toes, the pores in your scalp. There is nowhere you can’t feel it. There's nowhere to escape it, and why in the fuck would you?  
  
“ _Yes_. God. Please, can… can I…. can _we_ —”  
  
**_We can. We can do_ anything _, little human._**  
  
The tendrils dissolve into the amorphous threads that make up his being, twisting to push deeper inside of your cunt and tease every tender inch of skin until it registers where you like it the most. It’s maddening. You keen and writhe, struggle halfheartedly against the living bonds and revel in the feeling of it gliding over your belly and breasts and throat, joining to snake over your thighs and wrench them apart until your hips scream in protest. Its tongue moves in tandem with the swollen appendage inside of you. Each thrust is a practice in self-restraint, edging yourself along to make it last. In another world, far away from this frozen moment in time and space, you’re sitting among the clean clothes and the TV drones on in the background. Sunlight still filters through the blinds and your coffee sits ignored on the table. A dog barks outside, but in here, you lick at the heavy thing teasing the back of your throat as Venom tests more boundaries, matching the ebb-and-flow of its version of thrusting. It’s almost like breathing, expanding and contracting and rippling unlike anything you’ve dreamt of in your fucked up kinks. How will you ever take fucking another human seriously? _How_ , when you’re so torturously close to cumming for the rabid parasite chewing on the nape of your neck and the insides of your elbows, dragging its tongue over and over your clit?  
  
_**I can feel your tight little pussy clenching down—you’re intoxicating. I will do this to you ceaselessly, breeding you, filling you up until your mind cannot stay together. Just like now. Is that what you want?**_  
  
“ _Yes!_ Fuck, V-Venom, _how_ … do you know… to _say_ those things?” Each word sifts through clenched teeth, breaking over the hills and valleys of your wavering voice. “ _This is crazy_. This is… f-fucking _nuts._ ”  
  
_**I know you. I will know**_ **all** _ **of you. Isn’t this what you like? Being fucked open? Begging, crying? Unable to think straight except to chase your own end?**_   _ **Do** **you need to cum for me?**_  
  
“ _We_.” Tears of effort gather on your lashes, blurring the room. Like you need sight, _anyway_ ; the shifting milkiness of his stare lurks behind your eyelids all the same, watching with that grin full of sharkteeth, smug as ever. “ _We_ need to cum.”  
  
_**We**_. A low growl like a purr reverberates in your ribcage, spreading out over your sternum. _It’s going to cum._ The thought fills you with a special kind of dread, like watching a scary movie on purpose, or waiting in your spot during hide-and-seek. It’s an artifact in your genes, some unused, primordial sense that flares to life in the heat of the moment. It gets a little more sensitive every day, like you’re able to peek through Venom’s mind the same way he does yours. It’s his pleasure, seeping through to your nerves and gifting you with things you can’t make sense of. Sensations that don’t usually exist, like a melding of your familiar faculties along with… _Something Else_. It’s a window to a world you can barely comprehend but for Venom seeing it for you, _through_ you, sharing parts of itself like trinkets to be earned. _**Trust us, little human—let go. Give in to us.**_  
  
Of course you do.  
  
The amount of pressure released in all those breathtaking spasms could form new galaxies, spawn realities and new life. It feels like rebirth. Every hair stands on end as if with static, a singing tingle just under your skin like you might melt away and reform and melt again. _Ebb, flow. Contract, release._ Your cheeks are wet, your thighs are wet, and in your delirium, it stops mattering if it’s blood or cum or spit or fucking _ectoplasm_ , whatever it is that forms him and now forms you in its image. 

Ever responsive, Venom hums and growls and adjusts his length to the unspoken language of your body, coming down gently with you and easing out of your pulsing cunt at a pace that isn’t overwhelming. All those extra parts receding into your body again is a comfort, affording you the freedom to lie on the carpet, panting, feeling the cool air against your sweaty forehead. Venom can heal the ragged marks left by his gnawing, but neither of you vocalize the preference to. You touch one and hiss, struggling to sit up.  
  
_**We’re hungry.**_  
  
“Yeah, um… let’s give it a rest. Let me tell you about something called a _refractory period._ ”  
  
_**There is chocolate in the freezer.**_  
  
“ _Oh_.” The push to stand through the ache flows up your spine to lift you up, the promise of sweets too unbearable to ignore. “Yeah, good idea.”

 


End file.
